


Cicada

by Atlantic



Category: Senjou no Merry Christmas | Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence | Furyo (1983)
Genre: Although it's never directly mentioned it's kind of implied by how they react to things, Canon Divergence, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:11:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9595328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atlantic/pseuds/Atlantic
Summary: "Celliers," Captain Yonoi says with a peculiar nod. "We are going on a walk."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Brevity is the soul of wit yadda yadda I want this to read like it could've been a part of the movie
> 
> This fic diverges slightly from the canon of the movie in order for the contents to work, but for all purposes, the same outcome as the movie happens. Unless I get bored and wanna write more in this, I guess? Yeah. Everyone has slept on this movie hardcore and I couldn't keep myself from writing a fic just to explore the dynamic of these two in an alternative way.
> 
> I feel like I should mention this isn't a healthy dynamic, still. Please don't mistake this fic as me trying to "fix" the movie.

Jack Celliers isn't made for prison camps. Others, yes, they could easily be overtaken by the tedium and waiting--but not him. His skin felt like it was on fire. He needed some purpose other than rotting here, serving no reason for being at the moment other than being a self-martyr. Ever since his health had returned, he was hardly observing the same sort of habits that the rest of the prisoners were, similar to Lawrence, but with none of the same reasonings as to why.

No guards had stopped his wandering yet--it was discomforting, really, that he was given such leeway. Although his witty remarks got him beatings from the over-zealous young soldiers quite frequently, since the flower-and-radio incident, Jack has been mostly left to his own devices.

He does get the distinct feeling of being watched rather often--he'd be attending to his own business and turn his head only to find that he was being stared down frightfully by a throng of guards, like he was an evil spirit ready to jump at them for any reason. There's been an attempt on his life over such superstitions once already, so Jack never keeps his back completely turned.

It's stressful, but he's managed so much worse. A cigarette would be nice, at the very least.

Sometimes he's helping out with the most menial chores around the camp. More often, Jack find himself in the company of John Lawrence step-for-step, bantering lightly with the pleasant fellow. Inevitably, of course, he ends up shying away like a doe from a gun barrel the moment Lawrence approaches Hara.

How he so calmly spends hours with the "enemy" is a mystery to Celliers. He's learned from his schooling to keep an open mind, but at night when he's trying to sleep, all his captors bring him is dreams wrought with cold terrors and unyielding wooden rods. Hara is especially terrifying to Jack, with all of his unpredictability, and his delight in causing pain for any misstep. Because of the beatings, Lawrence's legs were nearly defunct for a while, and yet he still engages in conversations Jack couldn't understand with the sergeant with a smile.

When the day draws to a close, though, Jack finds himself sitting outside of their lousy excuse of quarters, gently running his hands over the broken glass of the windows. He's been waiting for someone to tell him that he needs to return to his bunk immediately, but it hasn't happened yet. He sinks down into the grass, feeling how soft it is between his fingers, and how much softer it'd be if it hadn't been grown in a place captured by misery.

He's been thinking, maybe they're all prisoners. Instead of fighting a war for their ever-strong sense of honour, these soldiers are stuck here, catering to sick men who also want nothing more than to be gone and fighting the good fight. It's hilarious, it's tragic, and Jack can almost ignore his own regrets for a moment just to indulge in the sense of hopelessness mired in the sand and soil, shared by all of them.

He's so lost in his own thoughts, twirling blades of grass between his fingers, that he doesn't expect the hard grasp of a hand on his arm as he's tugged up. Jack has become an expert at ignoring his sense of self-preservation, as it so happens, so he doesn't even flinch, just raises his head with surprise. Captain Yonoi?

"Celliers," Yonoi says with a peculiar nod. "We are going on a walk." Jack can't argue, so he nods his head in return, hands by his side as they both begin to move. He steals a side-glance at the ever-unaffected Yonoi, nervously trying to guess what this is. Jack knows there's tension behind that androgynous, cool face. The same kind of tension that drove him to throw two perfectly good men in a cell and wake up all of the camp just to spar. It takes all of Jack's willpower to avoid avidly questioning the man on the spot, because he knows it'd get him struck to the floor in an instant.

For about five minutes, they say nothing, Jack and Captain Yonoi observing the camp gently quiet down as the sun falls with a brisk pace. He can hear the cicadas begin to roar their cadences. Jack is growing to find himself both repulsed by his position right now and utterly excited to be remotely close to Yonoi like this. Perhaps he's intimate enough now to get a timorous, careful glimpse into his so clearly troubled mind. Jack feels some lingering sense of familiarity that he couldn't shake between them, and he can't help but suspect that the captain was aware of the same feeling.

The silence and doubt eventually is too much for Jack to handle, so he finally breaks his silence. They've never actually had a conversation that wasn't dysfunctional or unusual, so he's unsure of what to expect. He has the urge to catch Yonoi off guard, completely change his expectation of whatever this is supposed to be. Make him afraid, even.

"I think cicadas are a miracle, you know. You can find out where you are in the world just by listening. They're different in every place. England's sound much more subdued--South Africa's are rather dull, I must say, but these are just lovely. Almost like birdsong. Forgive me, I haven't been to Japan, are they any different?" Jack makes sure his tone is upbeat and polite, a wide smile on his face that's tip-toeing the lines of being mocking. Jack instinctively widens their proximity, in case Yonoi responds badly to his chatter.

Yonoi just knits his brows and makes a face of distaste and repulse. "You talk far too much about things that do not matter," he says quietly, looking down at the ground with his hands behind his back. He looks...timorous, almost. Part of Jack is smug with the knowledge, the other part wants to know why, wants to help. Eventually, though, Yonoi looks up, sharply changing their direction. This isn't his office, this is the direction of the same fields that Jack picked flowers from during their failed _gyo_. Odd.

Yonoi's voice surprises him. "I agree. They do sound more like birdsong." He has a soft, restrained smile, and for some reason, Jack's stomach does a toss from looking at it. "In Tokyo, the cic...hm...." Jack almost forgets there's still a language barrier. The smile quickly fades into a frustrated glare, the captain taken aback by his own shortcomings. That's really all he seems to be, sometimes. Frustration and something else intangibly desolate. Jack stares for a second, trying to recollect his wits.

"Sorry," Jack murmurs hastily. He doesn't want to seem as if he's insulting Yonoi. " _Semi_ , right? Sounds much better than the English word, anyways." He'll have to think Lawrence later.

Yonoi settles. "Yes. They sound beautiful in Tokyo. Very beautiful in my home village, too. Even more than here. I used to collect them in little boxes when I was young. I would trade anything to hear them right now, I think." He looks up at the emerging stars, and then at Jack, stopping sharply in his tracks once they reach the field.

"Since I run the camp, I can ignore your curfew. I wanted to discuss something more important. You hardly do anything useful during the day as it is, so this is not a huge inconvenience to your schedule." Yonoi's eyes are captivating, Jack could say, even when they're harshly staring him down with contempt, his mouth slowly and carefully spitting out each syllable towards him. There's a world of things not revealed behind them that Jack can see, clever and perceptive as he is. A little too intense and uncomfortable to stomach, if he's being honest. There's subdued pain.

"Well, we have all the time in the world, Captain, don't we? I know you must find me absolutely riveting." Yonoi raises a hand to strike him on the jaw, but he surprisingly lowers it before it happens, shaking his head and looking away. Jack is shocked, he won't lie.

"I was considering making you the prison representative. The one you have now is not adequate, and the prisoners seem fond of you. I am willing to overlook your...past...acting out." Yonoi stands straight as an arrow while Jack leans against one of the tree trunks, reaching up for a branch and idly swinging on it almost like a child. Yonoi switches between intensely looking at him and looking at outreaching field instead.

Jack stops when he heard the words, though, eyes wide in surprise. This was definitely a curveball, especially after Yonoi nearly executed Lawrence and him. "Hicksley wouldn't like that at all, I think." He doubts anyone but him would seriously give a shit--they were all too tired--but such a switch would definitely still cause a stir. What would Jack do with that title, anyways? He doesn't want more attention on him from the guards.

"Hicksley is lucky he is still alive after all of the disrespect I have been shown by him. He is unfit as of now. You are." Yonoi's voice is steely, reassuring, almost friendly in its encouragement, and for the first time, Jack thinks he recognizes a little admiration from the man. That was no secret, but hearing so forward like this...was...entirely different. Jack licks his lip and looks at the ground.

He'll have to navigate this carefully. "Well, it certainly is an offer, but I'm afraid I have a bad track record with responsibility, Captain Yonoi, and you only know some of it."

Yonoi raised his eyebrows and gave a long sigh. He's almost a tangible, real person like this, and Jack wants to see more, as much as he can, for as long as he can.

"We all have our personal shame. Letting it stop us when we still choose to live with it only makes worse." Yonoi looks nervous. Like he's just revealed too much of something. He pulls out a gorgeous box from his pocket and slides out one sun-printed cigarette, and after a few moments, holds out one of the papers to Jack and asks, "Would you like one?"

Ah. There's the cigarette he's been craving.

Jack grins at him like it's a test. "Giving personal favours to prisoners now, are we, Captain?" Even so, he reaches out to grab it, fingertips brushing Yonoi's gloved hand for perhaps a little longer than Jack normally would have. Yonoi looks a little shaken from the comment, but he pays him no mind. Unconsciously, both of them have realized this is crossing the bounds of a typical discussion already--how could it not?

Yonoi lights his own and deeply inhales, releasing the smoke like he has just released all of his burdens at once. Jack can't help but watch in interest. His cigarette was already between his lips. This had to be his first smoke in months, so he was savouring it. Even though Jack is waiting to be handed the lighter, Yonoi seems to take matters into his own hands, pausing for a few moments before sharply turning around and looking up at Jack as he lights it for him. Jack doesn't say anything, but when they make eye-contact, there 's some sort of unspoken understanding. It makes Jack feel utterly electric.

"I'd like to know why you chose here instead of your office, if you wouldn't mind. If not, I apologize, I--" Jack is cut off sharply by Yonoi, who lifts up a hand in a non-threatening gesture to quiet him.

"I assumed you would be less nervous here. The flowers. It is very open." Jack finds it funny, because he's absolutely right. It's also scary that Yonoi could guess that about him. He feels like if they weren't in a war, maybe they'd get along fantastically. Or they'd beat each other into a pulp. Jack looks down at the field of red in front of them, a pleasant look on his face.

"I'd much prefer white flowers, but they're nice. Reminds me of my childhood home's garden." Just thinking about his childhood makes his eyes scrunch up in pain, though. Ah. Some things were meant to be tainted forever, Jack assumes.

Yonoi slowly steps back, and they indulge in silence once more, both enjoying the nicotine buzz after a stressful day. Jack shrugs after some thought with finality. "Alright. I'll be your man." Yonoi's eyes widen in shock, and Jack can't help but laugh. "Your prison's man," he offers as a clarification, and now both of them are laughing so hard that their hands shake and cigarette ashes are flung into the wind.

"I am...glad." Yonoi's less tense than Jack has ever seen him, almost looking like a youthful boy with all of the stress that's left his face. "You are an honourable man, Jack Celliers, despite what you have done before. I do not understand why you debase yourself by staying here." He made a face. "If I were you, I would have killed myself."

"That's where we're different, I suppose." Jack just tilts his head with a wry smile, wondering how the two of them managed to stay peaceful for this long. "I don't think honour really fits, though."

"Why?" Yonoi breathes out one last puff of smoke before tossing his cigarette butt and turns his face to Jack's, gaze lingering a little below his eyes. "Your surrender was very dishonourable, yes, but beyond that?"

Jack has told this story once, and he doesn't want to tell it again, especially not to someone who has full authority to beat him where he stood. But...something about it feels right now.

"Ah. You're asking a lot of me. But...here. I'll...I'll...hm..." Jack is shaking.

For a second, both of them are silent. Yonoi's patience is astounding to him. Astounding enough to let the words eventually tumble out of his mouth, each pricking his tongue like a thorn.

"My brother. He has a bad back, see. I've stood up for him time and time before, but this once I...just couldn't. I let them. I let them ruin him." He takes another large drag, nearly fumbling with the cigarette in his hands from how vulnerable and stupid he feels just saying this. How guilty.

Yonoi's expression goes slightly soft, and Jack is officially on alert, breath a little heavier. He's refusing to look at the other man, poorly attempting to stand as firm as possible even with the awful things he's just revealed. It was easy to tell Lawrence this because they were on opposite sides of a wall, but Jack can hardly stand the shame of telling Yonoi to the face, and it's written all over him. Yonoi finds it admirable that he does anyways.

"My turn, then?" Yonoi offers it like it's a saving grace, so both of them can relive their torment. Jack just shakily nods and keeps his gaze squarely forward.

"I failed a coup with my fellow officers. I deserved to die with them, but I have outlived them because I was not there to help. And now I am here. Doing this." The captain breathes in. Yonoi knew that there was some similarity between them, but not like this. This was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Jack is looking up at the sky now, putting out his cigarette on the back of his hand without a single grunt of pain out of impulse, because he hates himself just thinking about what he's done. Yonoi looks startled by the action, but doesn't do anything. "He sang so beautifully. He never did again. No matter what I do, it's the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. It's always the last thing I think about before I think I'm about to die. It probably will be the last thing I think about before I die. There's no way to take that back. It's awful...God, people are so awful..."

Jack trails off when he feels Yonoi turning completely towards him, even stepping forward a little, staring intensely at Jack like he's utterly infatuated.

He slowly raises his eyes up to Yonoi's, and whatever he sees, it makes Jack feel like his breath is escaping. It's... _want_ in all manners of the word, unfettered and strong. Yonoi's mouth is just barely open and he looks completely shell-shocked--both of them are just staring at each other with that same knowing. Jack isn't sure he can take the restraint anymore, repercussions be damned.

Yonoi steps forward only to sharply move backward after a second thought, fuming in his desire to escape this outcome for his own good. It seems like that'll really be the end of it, but Jack suddenly boldly steps forward--glances at Yonoi's lips, then up at his eyes--and surges towards him to give him a careful, chaste kiss on the cheek. For a second, Jack is sure he's about to get knocked flat to the floor. Instead, Yonoi yanks his arms tightly enough to cut off the circulation. It takes him a few moments to realized that Yonoi has dragged him behind one of the few thicker tree trunks, practically smashing Jack into the rough bark.

"Never do that where someone could possibly see again. It is completely shameful," Yonoi hisses in a fraught tone, hands still keeping a firm grasp on Jack's arms. What Jack doesn't really expect is Yonoi leaning in and kissing him on the lips like he'll never get to again. Yonoi's restraint is impressive, but Jack has done this before, and it's only a matter of seconds before he's practically sucking on Yonoi's tongue, hands pressing desperately up against his body. Jack knows what he wants, and he's definitely wanted this.

Maybe Jack is an evil spirit, because he feels no sense of shame in what's happening, laughing a little maniacally in Yonoi's mouth. Yonoi tugs off one of his gloves only to entangle it into Jack's messy blonde hair, running through it in a frenzy and pulling on it ever so slightly. His other arm wound around Jack's back as he pressed him up against the tree and buried his face in his neck, inhaling deeply.

"Are you ashamed of this?" Jack can't help but ask. He didn't expect this adrenaline rush, ears pounding. They may still be captor and captive, but this adds a new layer, one that is completely unknown to both of them.

"No," He responds quietly. Yonoi is burning cold with shame, but he won't say it, of course. He hates this. He hates how Celliers so easily can turn him into this, something so depraved that Yonoi hardly knows himself right now. "I contempt you...but...also..." He stops himself before he can say anything that would be any more damning.

Jack nods because he understands. There's so many things about this camp that Jack doesn't understand, so many injustices, but he can at least try to understand this for what it is. "I think I knew in the courtroom. You wear your heart on your sleeve, Captain."

Yonoi's face looked impressed deep with melancholy. "Do not think too much of this," He finally murmurs. "You know as well as I do it is not feasible." Even so, he's pressing gentle, methodical kisses along Jack's throat, so much more gentle than he's ever been. Jack feels like he could melt like this. Yonoi is about to finally pull back and cease this absurdity when Jack keeps him shackled to the spot with a rough grasp. His hand is struggling up Yonoi's uniform now, past the layers he can manage.

The frantic, pleasant shock on Yonoi's face is going to stay in Jack's mind for a while. "Being a rebel will only get you so far, Celliers. I know it."

"Once you were one, though, weren't you?" Jack smirks wide. Yonoi just shakes his head firmly, strongly in annoyance. He kisses him again, this time roughly, pulling on his hair so much that it hurts. Jack gasps and is only partially aware that his trousers are being pulled down, and _oh God_. His own hands immediately dive towards Yonoi's waistline the moment he knows where this is heading.

"Quiet, quiet..."

  
**\--**

  
When Jack finally returns, everyone is asleep, even those troubled by nightmares almost every hour. Or so he thinks, because when he eases himself down on his cot, Lawrence turns over from his own sorry excuse for a bed with a look of suspicion.

"You would've been thrown into the cells for being out that late. What did you do? Or what happened?" Lawrence, bless him, could indeed be a nagging father sometimes.

"Seems I'm being made the most important prisoner in the camp, now. You're right. I do think he's taken a shining to me, Lawrence." Jack just smiles at him. "You want to know what else I got?"

Lawrence sits up now, interest thoroughly piqued, and he looks impressed when he sees the two cigarettes held out in Jack's palm. "You absolute dog!" He's having to restrain his laughs in case they're heard, but he grabs one. "Tomorrow morning, we can light it. I know a Dutchman who found a lighter one of the soldiers lost."

Jack just smiles. "I do feel bad for Hicksley, though. But it'd be...very...unwise to turn down Captain Yonoi, wouldn't it?" He feels weird talking about him like this now. He wasn't dissimilar to the boogeyman before, at least to the rest of them. Jack has a hard time empathizing with that perception after tonight, considering he managed to make the man unravel in under a minute with only his hand, and he made some very delightful noises while Jack was doing so.

Lawrence's smile fades. "He's been planning it, actually. I'm surprised he still asked you...I'm...surprised you said yes. It's not like you to turn down a challenge to be a pain in the arse. How'd you get the cigarettes, though?" He's leaning over now, eyes bright with mirth.

Jack twiddles his thumbs. "Hmm...well, you know, he's not as perceptive as he thinks, so I helped myself." Lawrence is looking at him odd, and Jack lays down with a grunt, returning the look curiously.

"Your hair." His eyes are wide now.

"What about it?" Jack bites his lip and tries to fight down his sense of alarm.

Lawrence gives it a rest and just and smiles. "Nothing, it just looks a little more dishevelled than it usually does. Goodnight, Celliers. We'll speak tomorrow."

"Goodnight."

Once he's sure Lawrence is back to dozing off, Jack props himself up somewhat and pulls out the cigarette again. He rolls around the paper in his hand, smells it, realizes with some delight that the smell is similar to Yonoi's own--probably by virtue of how often he must've smoked. He places it under his cot and goes to sleep.

This is the first night since that awful hazing that he falls asleep thinking about something else. Someone else, even.

Doomed and twisted as it all was in the end.


End file.
